


A Regular Thing

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Crossdressing, Dom/sub relationship, Hair Pulling, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Vibrator, brief mentions of homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of a slice of life fic with lots of smut thrown in for good measure. Tags will be added with updates. (Crossposted from FanFiction dot Net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goth Orgy

**Author's Note:**

> Michael is about 17, Pete and Herietta are both 16, and Firkle is 14.

He had already climaxed three times, yet Pete still had him facedown in the black cotton sheets, his ass in the air. The red highlighted goth had orgasmed twice and was working on a third for himself and a fourth for the tall teen under him.

Michael let out a small whine when the younger missed his mark, grasping the sheets as he struggled to keep his legs open while still supporting his weight.

"Shh, you'll wake Henri and Firkle." Pete whispered scoldingly against the other's shoulder blade and he shifted the curly haired teen's hips higher, "Keep your ass up, Michael."

"I am, dammit." He snapped in a harsh whisper that was made even more raspy by the strain he was enduring, "Less talking, more fucking."

"I agree." Henrietta's voice came from her desk chair. Somewhere during the boys' argument she had woken up and gone to sit in her leather office chair.

"Henri?! St-stop, Pete!" Michael tried to sit up and move away from the shorter boy, but Pete had a secure arm around his thin waist.

"Oh, don't worry about me, boys." She assured as her green eyes took in what she could tell in the faint moonlight coming from her window, "I just want to watch, and it is my bed after all."

"I don't mind." Pete agreed without missing a beat, his hips still rocking lazily into the taller goth, "Michael?"

The curly haired boy couldn't think straight with the other boy thrusting at all the right angles, so all that came out of his mouth was a garbled noise of agreement. He whined again, but this time it was of arousal at being watched while Pete dominated him.

He panted harshly into her covers to muffle his sounds so he wouldn't wake up the youngest goth. The red highlighted teen sped up his pace and spread Michael's legs wider before turning onto his side and hiking the taller goth's right leg up.

Henrietta licked her lips at the display, she could now clearly see Pete thrusting into the older boy as well as Michael's expression and how his dick bobbed with every thrust. It didn't take much time at all before Michael closed his eyes tightly and gasped Pete's name as he came just seconds before the other boy.

She flinched out of instinct when some of his jizz landed on her, but then she cocked her head and dragged her finger in the almost clear substance to taste it. It was bitter and slightly salty, and overall warm.

Henrietta raised an eyebrow and shrugged as she licked the rest off her fingers, humming to herself, "Interesting."

"Never tasted cum before?" Pete asked as he pulled out.

"No, I'm not exactly the whore next door." She snarked before eyeing the boys and biting her lip, "Are you two done?"

The shorter boy flipped his bangs and smirked at the taller goth, "Not if I have a say so. Michael?"

"Hnn?" Michael groaned eloquently as he sat up, a rich flush still on his pale face.

"Mind if Henri joins in a little?" The younger boy asked, "I know you don't like doing the fucking, but it could be hot for you guys to make out and stuff."

The older goth swallowed to soothe his dry from moaning throat, "I guess, if she wants to...but, another round? Right now?"

Pete nipped at the stud for Michael's cross earring, "Yes, right now. While we're still horny."

He pulled the taller boy to straddle him while facing her before he spread Michael's legs for easier access. The taller goth gave a gasp which rolled off into a moan as he was impaled again. Henrietta stood beside the bed in order to be eyelevel with the kneeling catcher and she brought up a hand to cup the right side of his face, brushing the stray curls out of his vision.

Pete started to buck up into the familiar heat around his member, setting a rapid pace that had Michael shaking as he tried to hold himself up. After the first few thrusts the taller teen glanced up at Henrietta, his eyes half lidded and dark with lust. She moaned softly at the submissively pleasured look that she found in his warm brown eyes and she pulled him into an open mouth kiss, surprised when she met no resistance and his moans vibrated on her tongue.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Pete asked breathlessly and he smirked as he reached up to toy with the older boy's chest, "He doesn't put up much of a fight." He leaned up and bit Michael's shoulder possessively, "That's 'cause you're a whore, Michael. My little bitch, mine."

The curly haired teen moaned sharply at the name-calling and bite, his face flushing more if at all possible, and he bucked into the empty air between him and the female goth.

"It's okay, I gotcha." She cooed in a soothing manner as she quickly grabbed his neglected need and started stroking firmly.

The tall goth hung his head, his curls hiding his expression as wave after wave of strangled moans washed over his lips. Henrietta smirked at the fact that his moans were mostly a mantra of her and Pete's names mingled with Oh Fucks.

"Can I join in?" The youngest goth had been watching from the floor for the past three minutes, having been woken by Michael's noises and the bed springs creaking with the intense pace. 

Henrietta let go of the older boy and beckoned Firkle over as she got up on the bed to Michael's left. The smallest teen quickly took her place and crashed his mouth enthusiasticly to the taller goth's in a sloppy kiss. The kiss was all tongue and teeth, but either Michael didn't notice or he didn't care, because he moaned into Firkle's mouth as he let the youngest boy dominate the kiss.

The curly-haired teen parted from the kiss only to have his head turned toward the female goth and be pulled into another heated kiss. Pete was kissing and biting along his neck while the youngest boy kneeled down beside the bed and tentatively wrapped his purple lipsticked lips around Michael's dick, much to the taller boy's utter bliss.

At this point Michael could barely hold his own weight, he was shaking so bad, and he felt too hot as his breathing escalated to the point that he thought he was going to hyperventilate. To his dismay tears started pricking at the corners of his eyes and making his eyeliner run as his body tried to deal with the overload of his fifth orgasm of that night rapidly approaching. Henrietta stopped nipping at his neck long enough to notice the liner trails streaking his pale face.

"Aww, look," She ran a hand down his neck to his collar bone and down his chest, "We're making him cry, Pete."

"'M nnn-nnnot-t-t cr-cryyyy-yying!" Michael managed to choke out between gasps and moans as he bucked into Firkle's accomodating mouth, the younger boy feeling a surge of pride when he didn't gag.

"Yes you are." Pete growled against his shoulder, "You fucking love this, don't you, Michael? You love being the center of attention, you whore."

Michael let out a choked off sobbing moan as he gave a few short thrusts into the smallest goth's mouth, signaling his orgasm.

Henrietta caught his torso as he slumped over and she blinked her emerald eyes in surprised amusement, chuckling, "He passed out, Pete...he fucking passed out."

Pete pulled out carefully and craddled the taller goth against his chest, "Holy fuck, he did blackout."

Michael's eyes slowly fluttered open as he came around and he groaned, "Fuck...that was...fuck..."

Firkle wobbed slightly as he stood, being young meant that he often had flashbang orgasms that hit him hard and left him good and dopey for a few minutes. None the less, he still grimaced at his black jeans which he had came in because he didn't even bother to remove his pants.

He yawned softly and looked around, "Did everyone finish?"

"Yeah." The red highlighted goth answered, his voice softer than usual from his own moaning.

"Obviously..." Michael breathed, his usually deep voice cracking just a bit from exhaustion.

"Eh, I'm good..." Henrietta shrugged, sounding a little unsatisfied.

"If you didn't cum, you can say so." Pete smiled softly and flipped his bangs, "After all, you didn't get a lot of action..."

"No, it's okay." She shook her head and scooted to the edge of the bed to sit, "I'm fine."

"Look we all got to finish, but you didn't." Michael argued tiredly as he sat up and scooted to sit next to her, "Let us help you, it's only fair."

"Okay, and how would you like to do this?" She eyed him skepticly.

The oldest boy glanced back at Pete who smirked and chuckled crypticly, "You're in for a treat, he's good at this from what I hear."

"...What?" Henrietta cocked her head and turned back to Michael, only to find that the curly haired goth had moved to the floor and was kneeling in front of her, "What are you doing, Michael?"

"I might not like the idea of fucking girls," He explained as he lifted her black dress to her waist, "But I found out that I'm rather talented at cunnilingus."

"At what?" She deadpanned and she felt her face heating up as he ran a slightly unsteady finger over her black lace panties before removing them.

"At eating you out." He stated matter-of-factly before he leaned down and gently spread her lips with two fingers as he ran a flat tongue up the lips to her clit.

Henrietta's hand tangled itself into his black curls as he gave her slow, steady strokes of his tongue. The female goth laid back into Pete's lap and spread her legs wider. She gave a high-pitched moan when Michael's tongue gently wiggled its way inside, probing teasingly, and she felt that large nose of his rub against her clit. Her pleasure only mounted when the other boy lifted her dress clean off and started to play with her ample chest through her bra.

"Michael...Pete..." Henrietta moaned when Michael growled against her, his deep singer's voice vibrating pleasantly to her core, "D-d-don't stop, don't st-stop!"

The tallest goth glanced up to see Pete removing her black lace bra with some difficulty and he chuckled against her, causing her to moan again. It took a good five minutes of licking and humming, but Henrietta's orgasm face was gorgeous as she tossed her head back, her black feathery locks fanning out in Pete's lap as she arched. Michael sat up, licking his lips and breathing heavily.

Firkle seemed to come out of nowhere as he went in for another kiss, his tongue delving around and exploring all that it could. After a moment or two the younger backed off and swiped his tongue over his fading purple lipstick, panting softly with arousal and need for air, "...I wanted a taste."

"You wanna try?" The female goth asked breathlessly, a hopeful tone to her usually apathetic voice.

Firkle just moaned at the back of his throat and took Michael's place as the taller goth got back on the bed next to Pete. The youngest goth nervously touched his tongue to her soaked lips, gaining confidence when her taste burst on his tongue. He wanted more of that so he swirled his tongue around, making it flat to catch all of her.

Henrietta moaned loudly and threaded her fingers through his long, black fringe encouragingly, "Oh fuck, Firkle...your tongue...so amazing! Don't stop!"

His grey eyes lit up at the praise and he moved the muscle faster and moaned against her, his hand wandering down to the fly of his jeans to unzip it.

"Hun, when I say 'don't stop', I mean 'don't stop exactly what you're doing right now'." She murmured gently, "I'm really sensitive right now."

"Sorry," The eager teen mummbled in between licks, "I just love the way you taste."

"S'okay, just slow down a bit." Henrietta smiled down at him and continued petting his hair.

Firkle now had a hand around his cock as he swirled his tongue around, dipping it inside her occassionaly and moaning all the while. He bucked into his own hand and he softly licked her tender clit, brushing his chin against her entrance.

She came before he did and he gladly licked his lips as he backed off. Henrietta sat up and used the hand still in his hair to pull him into a heated kiss as her free one brushed off the hand on his dick to service him.

It didn't take long before Firkle came in a glorious cumshot while giving a particularly loud moan of, "'R-retta!"

"Firkle," The female goth breathed with a smile, "You have an amazingly talented tongue."

"More like mouth entirely." Michael interjected from the nest of pillows he had made since Pete had finally let him rest, "He's a natural at sucking dick too."

Firkle let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth at all the compliments, as well as a yawn at the back of his throat.

Henrietta caught the action and mimicked it by reflex, "Firkle's got the right idea, we should get some sleep. It's damn near four in the morning!"

Both Michael and Firkle were out within five minutes.

"So, are we going to make this a regular thing?" She asked the red highlighted teen.

He shrugged, "Dunno...We could maybe do it once or twice a month, but I don't think Michael could handle this too often."

"...Cool, 'cause I'd really like to do this again." She nodded to herself and curled up against the youngest goth.

Pete settled in to spoon with the curly haired teen, "Totally."


	2. Enter Stan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan is 16 and yes, I'm a huge fan of Ruby Gloom. It's on both netflix and youtube, and I highly recommend it.

On Monday morning the goth kids woke up to Henrietta's sappily sweet mom rapping on her door and telling her "precious baby angel" that it was eight fifteen and that breakfast was ready.

A quick survey of the room almost made Pete burst out laughing. Henri's bed was apparently too small for four goths with how Michael kicked in his sleep.

The tall goth had at some point in the night managed to kick himself off the bed and he was now lying on the black carpeted floor with one leg still hiked up on the bed.

Firkle had squirmed his way, possibly to avoid being kicked by the older boy's long legs, up to the top of the bed and Henrietta had been using him as some sort of bizzare pillow, snuggling into his chest and stomach. Said girl now had the majority of the bed to herself, what with Michael half on the floor like a sleepwalking failure.

The pudgy goth girl groaned and curled under her real pillow to drown out her mom, "Ugh! What the fuck does she want?"

"Ngh...I heard breakfast..." Michael picked his head up groggily and looked around dazedly, "How the hell did I get down here?"

Pete stretched and pulled on his black undershirt, "The same way you always do, Sir Kicks-a-lot. Someone wake Firkle up."

Henrietta half-assedly flung an arm out from under her cocoon to paw at the youngest goth, "Firk. Up. Now."

The short boy rose like a zombie, clawing his way to the edge of the bed and staggering to the kitchen in search of, not brains, but coffee.

The other goths followed shortly after in the same pursuit.  
Both Pete and Firkle just grabbed a plain cup and the younger all but downed the blackness, quickly pouring another and taking his time with the second cup.

Henrietta and Michael had grown out of that "I only drink coffee black, like my tortured soul," phase and felt free to add sugar to their's, and to Henrietta's cup she added milk.

"Hey, Michael," Pete smirked and pulled a Payday candy bar from the pantry.

"What, Pete?" The curly haired goth yawned as he leaned his back in the counter, slowly nursing his own coffee.

"You want some peanuts?" The red highlighted goth's tone was inoccent, but his impish smirk ruined it as he held the unwrapped candy up to his taller friend.

Michael' brown eyes widened and he balked from the younger's hand, almost spilling his coffee, "The fuck, Pete?! Dammit, get that crap away from me, you know I'm fucking allergic!"

Henrietta rolled her emerald eyes as the two started a "game" of peanut tag, "I told my mom to stop buying those."

Firkle made a small noise of agreement as he was just now joining the land of the living.

"Seriously, Pete!" Michael yelled from the living room, "I don't have my Epipen, get it the fuck away from me!"

"Okay okay," Pete sighed and tossed the candy in the trash, "Relax, I wasn't going to actually touch you with it."

"Whether you were or weren't isn't the point." The goth girl interjected, "He's severely allergic, one accidental touch and he could have a reaction. I don't feel like spending my Monday in the Emergency Department because you decided it would be funny to scare Michael with a candy bar."

"Fine, God!" Pete huffed as he slumped into the chair opposite Firkle, "I don't need a lecture, Mother."  
The comment earned him a thwack on the back of the head from the goth girl.

Soon the gaggle of goths all piled into Henrietta's mom's light blue Honda.  
Michael leaned his head on the window and absently kicked the underside of the driver's seat.

"Michael! Cut it out!" Henrietta snapped as she tried to get the car to start up in the cold morning air.

The tall goth huffed, but stopped kicking, only to have his foot start twitching and hopping up and down quickly.

Firkle was already half-asleep again and Pete just sighed, lighting a cigarette to ease his morning irritation.

"Are we actually going to school?" He asked impatiently.

"Fuck no. It's an A Day, which means I have gym, Michael has chemistry, and you have history." Henrietta muttered as she fiddled with the key, "And Firkle has algebra first thing, I'm not putting him through that bullshit when he's half dead to the world. Start dammit!"

As if it were actually afraid of the pudgy girl's wrath the car roared to life and she backed out onto the road, gloved hand reaching down to turn up the heat, "Hot air takes forever in this thing..."

"So where are we going?" Pete asked, flicking the ashes into the ashtray.

"We're going to the barn, of course." She replied simply.

The barn was an abandoned farmhouse, surprisingly warm and insulated by bales of hay, with a thick carpet of it in the hayloft where the goths hung out.  
Pete stepped into the relative warmth, shaking the cold from his limbs and finding the ladder.

Henrietta was first up the ladder, followed by a sleepy Firkle who was being guided by Michael behind him, and Pete brought up the rear.

Once situated, the goth girl leaned on a haystack, pulling out her poetry book from her large purse and she continued writing on the one about raindrops on moonlit tombstones.

Cliche? Yes, but it made her happy to write about macabre pretty things.

Firkle curled into her side and yawned, probably just now realizing they weren't in school.

Pete rooted through his messanger bag and grabbed his sketchbook and a fine tipped pen to work on his drawing of a rose winding around an empty glass bottle. There was no real reason for it, he just felt like trying to draw the stem's distortion in the glass.

Michael sat back and watched him or at times he got up and started walking around, feeling the safe places to walk with his cane, exploring the loft.

"Hey," The red highlighted goth stopped drawing around two in the afternoon, "I think I hear a car."

"What?" Henrietta listened for a moment and shook her head, "I don't hear anything, Pete."

"I swore I heard something..." He stood and grabbed Michael's arm, "Lets go peek out the window."

The window was at the far front of the barn, out of Henrietta's sight as it was behind the hay-dune she was sitting against. It was cracked at the edges and round like an attic window, showing that only their blue Honda rested under the bare trees.

"See, Pete?" Michael gestured to the window, "No cars besides ours. Are you sure y—"

"Shut up." Pete crashed their mouths together in a hungry kiss and his arms looped over Michael's shoulders, making the taller boy stoop.

The tall goth moaned into the kiss, his brown eyes that had flown wide open in surprise now fluttered shut and his hand that wasn't holding his cane settled on Pete's hips.

"Needed to get away?" Michael asked in a breathless tone when they backed off, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Yeah...I was having Artist's Block." The shorter goth explained, "It was making it hard to focus and you wouldn't stop pacing."

"Sorry." The older boy muttered as he backed off and leaned on the wall.

"Don't be." Pete quickly trapped the taller goth against the wall, breathing on his neck teasingly, "Just help me."

Michael was about to ask what he was supposed to do about Pete's artist block, but as the younger goth moved his hips the curly haired teen bit his lip. Pete's erection was fairly prominent and pressing against his own rapidly hardening organ.

"Wow, that's pretty hard, Pete." He smirked and his breathing involuntarily picked up, "Did you walk all the way over here like that?"

The shorter boy nodded and ground their hips together harder, "Yes, and it's been driving me crazy."

Michael pushed on Pete's shoulders until he got the clue to switch places. The taller boy sank to his knees and started to undo the red highlighted boy's black pants, glancing up playfully, "You poor thing, let me help you out."

Pete unbuttoned his grey button down shirt with one hand while the other was idly up near his mouth and his warm panting was making his fingers soft with moisture.

Once his pants were at his knees Michael leaned forward and licked a broad path over the shorter boy's length through his boxer briefs, making Pete moan into his hand and buck upward.

"Looks like someone wants to come out and play..." The tall goth murmured as he gently pulled the elastic down over the swollen member, holding it in his right hand and kissing the side before licking the head.

Pete's hand darted down to tangle in the tall goth's ebony curls and control the pace.  
Michael moaned around his length at the forceful treatment, feeling his own need throbbing in his black skinny jeans. He subconciously reached down to unzip the constricting pants, but the hand that unbuttoned the other goth's shirt is now on his wrist.

"Ah ah ah," Pete gripped those dark curls and pulled him off, scolding with that glint in his hazel eyes that Michael knew so well, "You don't touch yourself until I say so. You know the rule."

The tall goth swallowed breathlessly, he had forgotten their rule.

When they started this whole deboggle it was agreed that Pete was in charge because he craved control and Michael craved the rough treatment. During their first time the rule of Michael not being able to do anything until Pete said so was established. Of course, Michael could safeword out if he really needed to, but it was a really rare occurance that he needed to.

"Sorry." The taller boy apologised half-heartedly.

Pete smirked and brought the other goth back to his length, "Don't apologise, just suck, bitch."

Michael mentally rolled his eyes at the cheesy demand, but outwardly swallowed Pete's cock obediently, it was their game after all. He pulled away a few times to catch his breath properly and to lick his lips before Pete came with a strangled moan.

The red highlighted goth caught his breath and shook himself before giving permission, "Okay, you can touch yourself."

Michael's black fingernails were at his zipper in a heartbeat and he shimmed out of his jeans, his left hand curling around the aching shaft.

"No underwear?" Pete lick his lips and raised an eyebrow as he rebuttoned his grey shirt, "Were you expecting this?"

"N-no...these jeansss are...tight e-enough..." Michael explained mid-moan as he pumped furiously, reaching his peak quickly and tucking the sated organ back into his skinny jeans.

"You guys were gone for a while." Henrietta's smile said she knew what had happened.

Pete scoffed defensively at the remark, "Tch, not long enough for Firkle to wake up."

"Hey," She glared at the pockmarked teen, "You leave the baby bat outta this, he was up awfully late last night."

All the goths, sans the youngest, blushed scarlet at the mention of their adventure the previous night. They hadn't addressed it or even mentioned it at all.

Michael coughed to break the tension, "It's almost three, who's hungry?"

"I am!" Pete said a little too quickly.

"Me too!" Henrietta raised her hand and went about waking Firkle.

The drive to Bennys was quiet, uncomfortably so, but thankfully short.  
They slid into their usual booth and Firkle seemed to be actually awake as he blinked and yawned the sleep away. The cranky old lady wasn't there as it wasn't her shift, so this college age girl with glasses and a cheery smile took their order.

"Hi, I'm Jamie!" She chirpped, her brown hair up in a ponytail and a plethora of buttons on her apron, "I'll be taking care of you guys! What can I get you?"

"Coffee, all four of us and bring creamer." Henrietta quipped distractedly as she pointlessly looked over the menu.

"Four coffees, got it!" Jamie didn't bother to write it down and she quickly darted back to the kitchen to brew a pot.

"She's new." Pete remarked idly.

"Obviously." Henrietta rolled her eyes.

"I give her one week." Michael deadpanned as he counted out six packets of sugar, "That happy-go-lucky adittude will dry up real quick."

"Coffee," Jamie announced as she returned, passing out the mugs and pouring the hot drink, "Now, what can I get you guys to eat?"

Henrietta knew their order by heart, "The red streaked boy wants the clam chowder, the tall boy next to him wants the Moons Over My Hammy, the short kid wants the All You Can Eat pancakes, and I'll have the Lemon Pepper Grilled Tilapia."

Jamie finished writing the order, "Alright, I'll bring it out when it's ready."

"Hey," Michael nodded to a booth by the window opposite their's, "Isn't that Stan?"

"Interesting." Pete sipped his coffee, "The jock skipped school."

"Stan!" Henrietta called over, "What are you doing here?"

Stan shrugged and stirred his Sprite, "I didn't want to go to school, same as you."

"Ooookay...?" Pete raised an eyebrow.

"What Henrietta meant is, why are you at Bennys of all places?" Michael clarified as he added sugar to his steaming coffee, "It's not a typical hangout for you non-goths."

"Non-goths?" Stan stood up and after Henrietta nodded he sat down next to her, "What happened to calling us conformists?"

Pete shrugged and swirled his coffee in the cup, "I guess we grew out of it. Looking back, we were kinda..."

"Immature?" Michael offered after a moment of the red haired goth's searching for the right word.

"Yeah," Pete nodded.

Henrietta turned to Stan, "We were pretty conformist ourselves, actually. We conformed to what people thought goths are, which is so not true."

"You guys grew out of the rules?" Stan nodded to himself, hesitantly asking, "So, if I wanted to be a goth again, I could? 'Cause I kinda liked the music and poetry."

"We can take you back into the fold if you want to, sure." Henrietta shrugged and sipped on her coffee.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow, surprised, "So do I still have to drink black coffee, smoke, and only write poetry about how life sucks?"

"No, you do whatever you normally do." Pete sighed and looked over Stan's shoulder, "Food's here."

"Yeah, we don't even do that stuff anymore. You just hang out with us." Michael added as he started in on his hashbrowns, "But, it would be nice if you looked the part."

"I do have some grey jeans and a black t-shirt." Stan offered unsurely, worried that his wardrobe wouldn't be gothic enough.

"Relax, Stan." Henrietta smirked at his worrying, "You don't have to be extravagent like us. We've been goth for longer so we have the clothes to match. If you want we can go thrift store shopping, they have some real gems."

"Okay, cool." He visibly relaxed, then he cocked his head, "So do I have to go by Raven again?"

"Not really." Henrietta nudged Firkle awake so he'd eat, "We all used to have nicknames, but they got lost somewhere down the line."

"Really? What were they?" Stan asked, becoming more comfortable as they talked and he sipped on his drink.

"Fuck if I remember." She sighed and picked at her fish, "Do you, Michael?"

"Yeah," He put his toasted ham sandwich down to count them off on his long fingers, "I was Morose, Pete was Migrane, Firkle was Malaise, and you were Mayhem. We named ourselves after Misery's cousins from Ruby Gloom. We stopped using them because we kept forgetting them."

"I hated that mine cause you guys named me after that annoying girl on the boat..." Pete grummbled.

"But you sound just like her, Pete." Firkle pointed out with a grin.

Henrietta snickered and mimicked the valley girl character, "I'm queen of the world!"

Pete scowled and sulked at his soup, "Shut up!"

Stan watched this exchange with surprised amusement, it had been a while since he had spent time around the goths, "You guys laugh and goof around now."

"Sure, goths have plenty of humor," Firkle rolled his eyes, but smiled, "It's dark humor, but it's humor all the same.

Stan nodded and smiled, "I think I'm going to like being goth again."


End file.
